Hell, Reo thinks as he loads another clip into the sawed-off shotgun, The world must’ve fallen into the fifth circle of Hell.

A few months ago, when he was still seventeen, the U-20 match had finished. It felt as if he was finally getting somewhere with his dream of grasping the World Cup; it was the beginning of the rest of his career with you, being recognized as Reo rather than Mikage.

Before Blue Lock could even begin again, the zombie apocalypse came, worsened, and then became the entire world’s problem in simply a few days. Transmission was possible just by allowing cells from an infected person into the bloodstream. Reo wasn’t initially affected. He was a billionaire family’s heir—why would he be anything but safe? You weren’t, however, and so he persuaded his parents to let you come with him to a military camp. And then, when that one was attacked by scroungers and bloodthirsty rouges, you both were sent to another. And then another, and then the carrier car you both were in crashed before the fourth.

It was just you two past then.

Reo didn’t have time to wipe the sweat off his brow, taking another step back before aiming for the leg of the infected progressing up the stairs. If he looked off to the side, he would see you with that pistol you nabbed from an earlier scavenge, directed at the few slightly below. His expression grew determined, and he pulled the trigger. It was a direct shot into the leg, sinking in. The zombie stumbled back, it’s groans disgusting, inhuman—and then it fell.

Another one, then. The horde in this office building felt endless. The muzzle was turned slightly, now aiming to the left. There was only a bit of ammo left. In this situation, simply staying here and continuing to fight was death.

“Nagi!” He shouted urgently, getting up from the crouch, “We should go up to a higher floor and look for an exit—this isn’t working, they’re not stopping!”